The Jolly Angst Of Drinking
by meethzoonk
Summary: When an infamous island throws a drinking festival, the crew turn up for the celebration. Things go downfall somewhat ridiculously therein: drunken little fellows, a poisoned Nami, crypted letters for Robin, and growing relationships abound! [LN, GEN4nw]


_Technically post-Skypiea, this is an EPIC that will remain GEN until the better half of the story. Everyone gets their share of the limelight and the Luffy/Nami wonderland will happen through a gradual yet extremely eventful process. Much will happen. Keep your knickers on. Read and enjoy:) :) :)_

Liqueur or cordial: 2 1/2 percent sugar, 25 to 110 proof, colourful.

Vodka: not aged, 80 to 100 proof, colourless, odorless, tasteless.

Rum: 80 proof and above, coloured white or amber.

Distilled or fermented?

Shaken or stirred?

Live or let die?

It's entirely your choice.

Cheers.

**( THE JOLLY ANGST OF DRINKING )**  
_by meethzoonk_

A clapping, a cheering, a whoop of joy to boost the undying excitement --

"_Cheers_…!"

-- And then there was the sound of clinking glass, jugs of rum striking merrily against each other as the ship's crew re-celebrated their victory in Skypiea for the first time since their return to the clear blue waters they call home.

A pop of the cork going off.

A splash of the red wine bursting mercilessly from the slender bottle wrapped around the even more slender fingers of the navigator.

A giggle, a snigger, and the alcohol sloshed onto the swordsman and the captain, both standing up in astonishment, both emitting a somewhat girly squeak of protest.

More laughter, bubbling up into the air…

And then there was an enormous eruption as the marksman burst into a long engrossing song that told the magnificent fight of Captain Usopp against a fierce pirate captain. He danced and twirled and hiccuped shamelessly, then with a handful of ropes, tied himself to the mast as the song came to a victorious end. The cook, shaking his head yet undoubtedly laughing, walked up to the drunken marksman and untied him, and he slid bonelessly to the floor, inviting more laughs from the audience, especially from the little doctor, who was holding his stomach in fuzzy delight.

The historian, of course, smiled along with them. Several times, her gaze averted to the floor, which she had never seen so badly littered throughout her entire stay on the ship. Empty bottles of ale, paper plates, and puddles of spilled alcohol from the overturned beer barrels covered the deck. A folded newspaper laid on one of the standing beer barrels, in which an article was circled twice with felt-tip marker, red and definitive, twinkling little stars doodled decoratively around it:

**Daiquiri's Annual Drinking Festival**

After the traumatic incident of _The Great Drinking Riot _that took place six years ago, Derby Daiquiri, Champion Drinker and appointed sovereign of the island of Kahlua Bay, has decided to once more open the _Annual Drinking Festival _for drinkers across the Grand Line. This time, however, with extra safety precautions. During the week of this controversial celebration, several chosen members of the Marines will be posted in the usually Marine-free island to supervise the event in running and occasionally spray drunkards with sea water. Weapons brought to the fair will be temporarily confiscated, including those brought by the Marines themselves, who shall be armed with super soakers instead.

"This is a disgrace," asserted the captain of the assigned unit, Smoker, visibly unhappy with the decision. "We're dealing with pirates, here. Those water guns aren't going to affect them." When told that the festival will welcome pirates as drinking partners and that their imprisonment will not be allowed until the festival ends, Smoker was indignant, "The bloody island's gone mad!"

Should this event run as smoothly as planned, the terrible reputation of this Drinker's Paradise may possibly revive consequently. Daiquiri's _Annual Drinking Festival_ is open for public and all visitors will be provided a free bottle of rum at the entrance. Contestants of the drinking competitions may win prize money up to 100 million Berry and a bottle of the island's excruciatingly expensive Virgin wine. The first festival day starts the day after tomorrow…

_Clink-clink-clink-clink-_

The sound of a metal spoon tapping on glass. The crew, all sitting down on the floor of the deck, stopped their current activites, quieted, and looked up.

The cook was on his feet, looking striking in his brown pinstriped winter coat and a glass of wine in his hand. His cigarette played teasingly on his lips. He smiled brightly at everyone. "To quote what my dearest Nami-san said to me a moment ago," he started heartily, "'we have the most understanding Log Pose in all the Grand Line!'"

A teasing whistle. A joyous toot. A trinkle of applause, sounding like the drizzle of falling rain.

Smoothly, the cook continued. "Clearly, this must be fate. The Log Pose's arrow has pointed towards Kahlua Bay long before Chopper discovered that interesting article in the newspaper, and surprisingly enough, our Robin-chan claims to be familiar with the island." He gave the historian a smile and a polite nod, which she generously returned. "We have trunks of treasure and gold in the cellar -- thanks to the kindhearted people and beautiful ladies of Skypiea -- and I believe the lovely lady luck has not left our side."

"Damn right she hasn't!"

"Yes, Usopp. Just as long as you don't start singing acapella again, because then she probably will and I'll personally pull out your ribcage and wear it as a hat if she ever did. Understood?"

The marksman chortled. "Understood," he replied. "And a big gold star for imagery!"

A guzzle of laughter. A giggle. A snicker.

"As you see," the cook went on, plucking his cigarette away to exhale a cloud of smoke. "I'm already in my winter coat. That's because Kahlua Bay is a winter island where snow will of course be present. In fact, as Nami-san has lovingly informed me, it will start to fall lightly around midnight."

An excited hoot was heard -- the captain, most probably.

"So you lot get your coats ready, because we'll be arriving there tomorrow evening at the latest. There'll be no fights, no marines running after our skin, and all we're going to do there," He grinned. "is enjoy the fun."

A rush of excited talking, hands fumbling towards the floor, picking up the glasses of wine the navigator had poured for them earlier.

"Raise your glasses," The cook motioned, and the crew followed suit, red liquid swirling profusely inside each and one of their glasses. "To the holiday and relaxation we most definitely deserve."

"_To our holiday!_"

For the second time, the clinking sound of striking glass rang into the night.

Cheers.

For all, but except one.

The historian sighed.

She watched longingly as the crew sipped their glasses empty of the wonderful beverage. Alas, none were sober enough to notice that hers was left untouched, or realise that there was one unhappy face within their crowd, let alone ask the reason behind her solo action. It wasn't because she thought toasting was silly, nor was it because she actually hoped for this vacation to end in complete disaster. It was because toasting was all about hoping and she felt nothing but irk towards the upcoming island, therefore she could hope nothing on that.

She closed her eyes, and a word she knew all too well suddenly simmered within the surface of her mind…

_**History**, (noun, pl. **-ries**): a known past, or a story, or record of important events that happened to a person or nation._

And, well, that one word definition explains everything, really.

Yes, she was familiar with the island, as the cook had said. The island of Kahlua Bay held an important record in her life history, and that island's history held an important record on _her_. A record, however, that isn't exactly clean…

**to be continued**

_Author's Notes:_

I know Robin is often dubbed the 'archeologist' of the crew, but I thought the title 'historian' seem more appropriate since I see her more with history books than whacking great big poneglyphs. And besides, it sounds much more dramatic xD Now, reviews would be nice? Aye for constructive criticism, nay for disrespectful 'yOu-sUcKeD-dOnKeY' sort of flames. Bwha!


End file.
